


Strength and comfort in the form of arms

by LeannieBananie



Category: A Plague Tale: Innocence (Video Game)
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25887268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeannieBananie/pseuds/LeannieBananie
Summary: Hugo is gone and Amicia is struggling to reconcile that fact. Guilt is a heavy burden to bear alone, but she doesn't have to. She has family, makeshift and haphazard, but it gives her hope.
Relationships: Rodric/Amicia de Rune
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	Strength and comfort in the form of arms

She stared at her empty pallet for far too long before turning sharply and striding away from the fire, away from her sleeping companions. The sharp ache, the ever-tightening bands around her chest clenched fiercely and Amicia found herself running, stumbling along the uneven stone floors. A sob wrenched its way from her throat, bitter and hot as she fled down the crumbling hall, slamming the outer door open with a bang and a harsh cry. 

She collapsed to her knees, ignoring the shooting pain, and let out a vicious howl. 

“HUGO!” Her entire body crumpled under the oppressive weight of her anguish and she curled in on herself, forehead against her knees and her fingers tearing at her scalp as she wept. It was cold out and the wind stung her exposed extremities, but it seemed like a fitting punishment. She had lost him; it was _her_ fault. Her stupid pride, the lies, all of it had driven Hugo away and straight to the Inquisition. That truth tore at her very soul, twisted her heart, and left her feeling hollow and terrified. 

Amicia was so wrapped in her self-deprecating censure that she did not hear the door creak open behind her. So, when strong arms wrapped around her and lifted, she panicked and writhed before the scent of coal and ash and something spicy and warm, like cinnamon washed over her. 

_Rodric_.

“Hush.” His voice was strong and sure and she instantly obeyed. He carried her closer to their makeshift forge, close enough that the lingering heat from the embers warmed her face and held her against his chest. Silently he rested his chin against her hair and swayed very slightly, like he was soothing a child. And Amicia supposed she was right now, though this thing between them was not childlike at all. Not that now was the time to explore that. 

Instead she curled into his strength, burying her face into his chest, her forehead resting against the rough warmth of his neck. Her tears still trickled, but slower now and the ache in her chest relaxed marginally. It was enough that exhaustion was able to pick at her seams and Amicia felt herself succumbing to the late hour and the shadows piling in corners. 

“Thank you.” Her voice was wobbly and soft, but she knew he heard it when he grunted softly. She felt his muscles tense as he stood and carefully released her, letting her find her feet before sliding his hands away from her shoulders. “Come, it’s late.” Amicia ignored his look of surprise when she took his hand, sniffling inelegantly as she guided them back into the castle. 

It was near pitch black inside the halls and it was quiet except for the distant popping of the fire in the great hall and the shuffling of their feet, punctuated by the occasional snore from Arthur. When they reached her pallet Rodric went to drop her hand, but she clenched his firmly and continued past it, the sting of it too fresh still. She went instead to his pallet and quietly knelt, settling herself so that she faced the wall, silently waiting. 

Amicia let out a breath she was unaware that she had been holding when she heard the rustle of straw as Rodric laid out behind her. And her heart settled into a new clunky rhythm when he stretched out, his front nearly brushing against her back, his hand heavy and reassuring against her hip. 

It was a firm, sure reminder that she wasn’t alone and that she did not have to face tomorrow by herself. She had a family, she had support and they _would_ find Hugo again. 


End file.
